


Vision

by ZionAngel



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen, Post-Movie, Pre-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZionAngel/pseuds/ZionAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frigga blinks, and her eyes clear, and before her there is only a shy little girl.  The woman in her Vision is so different from the child before her, yet there can be no doubt that they are one and the same.  In that moment, Frigga knows she is standing before her successor, future Queen of Asgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vision

**Author's Note:**

> So, long story short, I haven't written in forever, and I miss it, and so tonight I just decided that I wasn't until I had something to post. It's unbeta'ed, and I'm kinda hope it"s something worth reading. The idea for it has just been sitting in a while, and I'm far too lazy to actually come up for a reason as to why everything happens, let alone to make an entire fleshed out fic out of it, so I give it to you thusly, this little idea, all on its own. Enjoy!

The hallways of the great palace of Asgard are never empty. At any given time of day, with the suns at their highest in the sky or in the darkest hours of night, there is life within them. Guards, warriors, members of the high council, and those many, many people fortunate enough to live in the palace can always be found. But so, too, can the countless ordinary citizens of the realm. There are no true walls within their kingdom, no divisions which might deny anyone anything of even the slightest value. The wealth of Asgard, both tangible and not, belong to all of its citizens, and so all are welcome to visit the palace and revel in its splendor and beauty and magic.

Frigga enjoys having so many people around, likes to be reminded of what she works so hard to nurture and maintain in her kingdom. She especially enjoys the very young children who visit, the future of Asgard, like the group of little ones brought today by their teachers, here to see the inside of the palace for the very first time. She joins them, guides them through the halls, tells them stories, tells them of all that Asgard stands for, of the things which they must strive to uphold. She takes them to the palace gardens, full of flowers and nature and beautiful statues, open fields filled with wildflowers. The children run out to play, full of innocence and exuberance, and Frigga smiles. But when she turns, she sees one child trailing behind, a little girl, toying with the end of her blond braid. She looks shyly between her fingers and the other children, as if wondering what to do. As Frigga watches this child, the sight before her changes, shifts with the hum and electricity of a Vision.

An adult woman, tall and lean but full of strength, stands on the steps of the throne of Asgard. Her flowing ebony hair falls from beneath the silver wings of an Honored Warrior’s helmet, and though she is a woman, she wears it with elegance and purpose, owns it and all that it signifies. Her silver armor fits her well, feminine but powerful, and there is no contradiction, no oddity, nothing but strength to this warrior woman. On one arm, she carries a small golden shield, glowing with magic and power. In her other hand, a glimmering, double-ended glaive stands tall and proud beside her as her companion. This woman, standing before the throne, is Queen of Asgard.

Frigga blinks, and her eyes clear, and before her there is only a shy little girl. The woman in her Vision is so different from the child before her, yet there can be no doubt that they are one and the same. In that moment, Frigga knows she is standing before her successor, future Queen of Asgard.

She smiles, and walks towards the girl, still trying to decide if she should join the others in play. She looks positively startled as Frigga kneels down in front of her.

“Hello, my dear,” she says, gently with a smile. “What’s your name?”

The child looks back down to her braid, pulling the hairs this way and that, tugging at the ribbon wrapping them together. Frigga waits, and finally the child murmurs softly, “Sif.”

\---

After Loki falls from the shattered edge of the Rainbow Bridge – after she rejoices in the return of one son only to lose the other – Frigga cannot find respite in sleep for days. Not healers, nor herbs, nor calming teas, nor kind words from those closest to her can vanquish the overwhelming power of her mother’s grief.

She soon gives up trying, and simply wanders through her rooms at all hours in a haze, waiting. Eventually, in the afternoon as she sits in a plush chair overlooking the kingdom and the skies – unfeeling – she can no longer keep her eyes open, and sleep consumes her.

When she rests, her dream is not a dream, as she knows from so many centuries of seeing Visions in the night.

Asgard itself has not been harmed. None of its gleaming buildings or monuments are damaged. But a distinct darkness hangs over the kingdom, a sickness in the colors of the auroras in the sky, a weight in the air that is full of fear and despair and danger. An enraged cry rips through the silence.

“I will not stay!” Sif’s eyes burn with hatred, her knuckles white around the hilt of her glaive.

Thor stands before her, begging her to listen. “Sif, you must –”

But she will not hear him. “I will not cower away in a palace while countless warriors who took the same oath as I fight and die to defend our people! I have sworn my life to Asgard and I will not sit and do nothing when I am sworn to stand beside you!”

The rage in her face speaks of betrayal, of an insult that goes against every fiber of her being. But still, Thor follows as she steps back, waits, puts his hands on her shoulders. He waits, his face gentle, sincere, loving.

“Sif,” he repeats, softly, firmly. “I know you have always expected to die for Asgard. But I need you to live for Asgard. I need to know that no matter what happens beyond this realm, that Asgard, and her people and all that she stands for, will survive. I need to know that no matter what happens to me, there will be someone here to carry on, who will move stars and heavens to ensure that all will not be lost. And for that I trust no one more than you.”

He strokes one thumb across the side of her face. Her resolve is gone, her hatred washed away by the tears running down her face. “But, Thor…” She can say no more.

“I need you to take the throne,” he says, as if it is an apology. “I need you to stay here. I need you to swear that no matter what happens, when this is over, Asgard will still be standing.”

Tears still fall from her eyes. Her face sets, full of determination and sorrow.

Her eyes are dry, her expression calm as Thor leads the brief, private ceremony that names Sif the Queen of Asgard. She says nothing as he places Gungnir in her hands, nodding in promise. When Thor takes to one knee, bowing with his fist across his heart, she stands tall and regal, ready to fulfill her sworn oath to protect Asgard in the face of all adversity.

They walk side by side, as equals, down the Rainbow Bridge and to the observatory, resurrected and blazing with power as droves of warriors pass into the Bifrost. Inside, as the last few make their way to another realm, Sif hugs Thor tightly, holding the spear – her spear – to the side and out of the way. When there are no more left, he releases her, squeezes her hand one final time, and disappears into the Bifrost along with the rest. The portal closes behind him with a painful sense of finality.

Heimdall stands at the dais. His sword still gleams as he pulls it from the center, but his helmet is gone, and a long, jagged scar running up his face and over his head has replaced it. His eyes are heavy as he passes Sif and moves out of the observatory. Her own, as she follows, are equally full of determination and fear.

When both have retreated a safe distance across the Bridge, they stop, and turn back. Sif takes a deep, calming breath, resolute, and levels the mighty Gungnir at the observatory. She fires a powerful burst of energy, and the structure shatters in an explosion of light and electricity. With two more deafening shots, the bridge itself yields, splintering and cracking, and for the second time, the great Bifrost falls down and down into the black abyss.

Frigga’s eyes snap open, and when she sits up and looks out, night has fallen over Asgard.


End file.
